Brandon of the Engineers

It was very hot in the deep hollow that pierced the mountain range behind

Santa Brigida on the Caribbean Sea. The black peaks cut against a glaring

sky and the steep slopes of red soil and volcanic cinders on one side of

the ravine were dazzlingly bright. The other was steeped in blue shadow

that scarcely seemed to temper the heat, and the dark-skinned men who

languidly packed the ballast among the ties of a narrow-gage railroad

that wound up the hill panted as they swung their shovels. At its lower

end, the ravine opened on to a valley that got greener as it ran down to

the glittering sea, on the edge of which feathery palms clustered round

Santa Brigida.

The old city, dominated by its twin, cathedral towers, shone ethereally

white in the distance, with a narrow fringe of flashing surf between it

and the vivid blue of the Caribbean. It was a thriving place, as the

black dots of steamers in the roadstead showed, for of late years

American enterprise had broken in upon its lethargic calm. The population

was, for the most part, of Spanish stock that had been weakened by

infusions of Indian and negro blood, but there were a number of Chinamen,

and French Creoles. Besides these, Americans, Britons, and European

adventurers had established themselves, and the town was a hotbed of

commercial and political intrigue. The newcomers were frankly there for

what they could get and fought cunningly for trading and agricultural

concessions. The leading citizens of comparatively pure Spanish strain

despised the grasping foreigners in their hearts, but as a rule took

their money and helped them in their plots. Moreover, they opened a

handsome casino and less reputable gambling houses with the object of

collecting further toll.

Such wealth as the country enjoyed was largely derived from the fertile

soil, but the district about Santa Brigida was less productive than the

rest and had been long neglected. There was rain enough all round, but

much of the moisture condensed on the opposite side of the range and left

the slopes behind the town comparatively arid. To remedy this an

irrigation scheme was being carried out by American capitalists, and the

narrow-gage railroad formed part of the undertaking.

A man dressed in rather baggy, gray clothes and a big, soft hat sat in

the shadow of the rock. His thin face had been recently browned by the

sun, for the paler color where his hat shaded it showed that he was used

to a northern climate. Though his pose was relaxed and he had a cigar in

his mouth, there was a hint of energy about him and he was following the

curves of the railroad with keenly observant eyes. A girl in white dress

of fashionable cut sat near him, holding a green-lined sunshade, for

although they were in the shadow the light was strong. The likeness

between them indicated they were father and daughter.